Tuesday, January 03, 2017

So for the purposes of education worms were put into these little plastic cups which were named WORM hotels. The cups were clear, and the worms could move about and the kids could watch them do their "eat dirt make dirt" routine.

Science, I suppose.

There is actually a part of me, the part who's brain has been softened by the internet I guess, who thought "Well that's terrible THAT POOR WORM I BET IT WAS TERRIFIED."

I've lost my damn mind. It's a WORM. I pulled off the packing tape which was on the top (by the way teachers - the worm COULD have gotten stuck to the packing tape across the top which would've made for a worm tragedy) and we set him free in our garden. I'm growing metal things there, nice right?
I'm a kid who used to spend summer evenings after the rains running through backyards with a flashlight and friends, hunting under dropped lily leaves, near and around gardens, for earthworms who were mistakenly sliding along the soil. We were hunting nightcrawlers, the biggest and tastiest worms, for the men of the neighborhood to fish with. My grandpa, other grandpas, other people's dads would come by the next day for a coffee and take coffee cans full of moist soil chocked full of these fat worms.

We made great bait hunters, we truly did.

I am completely unsure where I was going with this story, but I found it sitting in drafts this morning when starting a different project. So I'm hitting publish anyway. My boat my rules.

Also, I'm pretty sure that worm was dead but I played it off. #acting !